Talk:Nova/@comment-24796133-20150330000642/@comment-25065826-20150401090103
I awake as the sun rises, and looking over to the town, realise it's quite a bit bigger than I originally thought. We have food and drinks, though, so no rush to shoplift. My wrists are suddenly almost fully healed, and my first thought is Emma, draining me of energy and healing my wrists. Well, I would never have gotten to sleep otherwise. I sit up the tree for a while, and I then realise that I have no idea where I am. I wouldn't be able to find my way back to the base if I wanted to, which I don't. Ever again. I climb down the tree, still convinced that someone is watching me, and look through the bag. We have a few notebooks, a pen or two, and that's about it. Ah. We need weapons. We have a few knives, which only one of us two are any use with, and a pistol with no reloadable ammunition. If anyone comes after us, we'll be relying on our powers. I decide to find a shop or a market of some sort to find some weapons, because this area seems like one quite active in the black market. Maybe that's why the shopkeeper let me run. Emma wakes up 10 minutes later, and we decide to try getting Emma walking without crutches. She's wobbly at first, but a lot better than I would have ever guessed. After a few hours, she's walking as a normal person would, but with one hand firmly gripping my shoulder and my arm loosely around her back. Well, she was on crutches less than a day ago. It's amazing she's this well. I decide to go into the town after we've had something to eat, and Emma wisely suggests that she'll stay here. Backpack on, I'm walking down from the hill that we're 'staying in', and after a few minutes of searching, I find nothing. Nothing but a clothes shop, and the corner shop I visited yesterday. Clothes. Some reason, I find this funny, and walk in. There's a small TV in the corner of the room, showing the end credits of something or another. I'm about to walk out again when a scarf catches my eye. If someone is looking for me, notably Pluto's gang, I'm wearing exactly what I was yesterday in their compound. I need a change. I pick up a big scarf, a long jumper which isn't too offensive to wear, and some skinny jeans. They seem flexible enough, and as I start considering what I could run with for Emma, the shopkeeper walks around the corner. "Anything I can help with, darling?" He says. If you could be any more camp, I would pay you. He's practically straight off the set of High School Musical. But what surprises me is that he speaks in English, and somehow seems to think I do, too... I shake my head, "No, I'm fine, thanks." I just about manage to keep my voice in check, his flamboyancy is catchy. Not that it's bad, it's positively brilliant. He's cheerful, and I am most definitely not. I like happiness here and there, and although High School Musical wouldn't be my usual call for some happiness, this guy is actually friendly. I don't feel comfortable shoplifting from him. But I'll have to. He walks back to his counter, and I hear the news beginning. This could be useful to hear. I look around, vaguely looking for clothes, when something catches my... ears? '' "Prime Mecca suspect identified." '' I get nosy, and walk to somewhere where I can see the TV. The news must have already shown today, it's early afternoon, but the headlines are something I need to hear. The shopkeeper is busying himself, so I assume he's already seen the headlines. My gaze floats back to the TV. '' "A source in Sweden naming himself 'C' has given us what seems to be information previously hidden from the general public about the attack on the religious landmark of Mecca." '' ... What... '' "He states that he was imprisoned by the extremists to be blamed, and heard one name 'crop up a lot more than others'." '' '' "'Niamh Rennet' is the name of the 14 year old suspect of the Mecca bombing.'" '' A photo shows on-screen. It's me, but I'm looking at the destruction of Mecca with a gleeful half-smile on my face. My body looks ready to run. Whoever photo shopped this has some skill with computers, the photo is almost flawless. But it's a lie. Who would do this? And who would call themselves... C. I'm going to kill Cloner. I don't hear the rest of the program. I can't. The shopkeeper sees me, and pulls up a pistol from under his counter. Maybe I won't live long enough to kill Cloner. Shit.